


A Man Who Doesn't Know

by terminallybored



Series: K-9 Unit [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, M/M, Mild Language, Misunderstandings, Stiles is the best friend ever, everyone loves dogs, stereklyrics3, sterekweek2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 13:25:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12558356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terminallybored/pseuds/terminallybored
Summary: The price to pay for completely bombing a phone call with your crush is that you just don't get a first date, right? Stiles gets a reminder that that's not quite true in a town as small as Beacon Hills.





	A Man Who Doesn't Know

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sterek Week  
> Day 5 Theme: Lyrics & Quotes
> 
> Inspired by Culture Club's "Karma Chameleon"

Stiles is actually being completely helpful and the best friend ever. It’s really not his fault that he has no idea what ‘man the front desk’ actually means. Scott neglected to mention that part. It probably had something to do with the giant stack of files on the desk, but Stiles figures he does less damage by playing Angry Birds than by trying to pick an arbitrary place to stick files. 

Scott really should know better. 

The front door swings open, as announced by the small cowbell attached to the handle.

“Welcome to the animal clinic,” Stiles says, without looking up from his phone. The bell clatters again. And again. Stiles sighs and looks up because is someone really letting their kid just ring the bell for shits and giggles? He’s just about to ask, in a really passive aggressive way, if he can trade a roll of smarties for some peace and quiet, but… oh shit. 

Derek has Isaac by the scruff of his neck and he’s trying to pry the rope attached to the bell from the dog’s mouth. Isaac, though, seems to have taken particular offense to the bell, shaking his head and growling as he tries to pull it free from the door. 

“Isaac.” Derek sounds like he’s growling right back at his dog. “No. Drop it.”

Stiles really debates crawling under the desk to hide until Derek goes away. He can’t handle this level of hotness on his Saturday. He’s not prepared! In the mornings at work, he can prepare himself. Steel himself for it, even. Put his metaphorical shoulder down and take the hit of brutal hotness when Derek comes in with Laura and opens doors for her and helps Carol at the front desk with refilling the jug on the water cooler. Scowly kind-heartedness in a body made for ogling just does things to Stiles, he can’t help it.

Derek finally wrestles the rope free and pulls Isaac into the office, not looking up until the door is safely shut, putting a pane of glass in between dog and bell. “Was it really the best idea to put a dangling object on the door to a vet’s o- you.” He blinks at Stiles, dropping the rant mid-sentence. “I thought you worked at the police station.”

“Uh… I do.”

“And you work here too?” Derek raises an eyebrow. “Is this a tuition thing or a ‘just love dogs’ thing?”

“Yes!” Stiles agrees, and he’s not completely shutting the door on the idea of crawling under the desk still. He’s not prepared for an actual conversation here. “I can fix the bell. You’re right. It’s a totally bad idea. I mean, if it’s that distracting for a dog, just imagine the poor people bringing their cats in, right? They probably think it’s a toy too.”

“Aren’t cats usually in those carriers?”

Oh god. Abort. Stop talking. Please stop talking. “Some people bring their cats in on leashes. It’s pretty normal.”

Derek looks at him for a few seconds and Stiles is pretty sure he’s trying to figure out if Stiles is trying to be a smart ass, and god, if he figures it out, he needs to share with the class because Stiles has no idea anymore. He just knows that he’s alone in a room with Derek Hale and he needs to fill every single second with inane sound or he’s going to fill it with something worse. Like a compliment on Derek’s shirt. Which is a white t-shirt that comes in packs of five in any big box store, and it’s even smudged a little in the middle with what looks like oil. It’s not a shirt you compliment. It’s a completely plain weekend shirt for doing dirty chores in. It just looks really nice on Derek. Most things do. Everything does. And nothing would probably look really damn good and holy hell, how did Stiles even get here??

“Dog Walker.” Derek knocks sharply on the counter in front of Stiles, making him startle backwards. He reaches out and catches his shoulder when it looks like Stiles might actually flail himself right off balance. “Careful. And stop spacing out.”

“Right. Sorry,” Stiles says, and resolutely does not lean into the warm hand on his shoulder. “So. Uh… are you here for an appointment?”

“Yeah. Isaac is getting his shots.”

“Right!” Stiles fumbles for the jar of dog treats (at least he knows where that is) on the desk and pulls one free. He sprawls across the desk, hanging down to Isaac’s level, holding up the biscuit. “Hey, buddy. Remember me, your old buddy Stiles?” Isaac gives him a once-over, then promptly takes the treat from him. Yep, just as engaged as ever. Good ol’ Isaac. 

Stiles and Derek make small talk while Stiles pets Isaac. They talk about how Isaac is doing (fine), how does Derek like owning a dog (it’s fine), and the weather (also fine). It’s awkward, but not quite as awkward as admitting that Stiles has no idea what he’s supposed to do. He could yell back for Deaton, but there’s probably like… a file needed for this stuff. And Stiles has a nasty feeling Isaac is a new patient in need of a new file and that’s well outside of Stiles’ area of knowledge here.

Stiles is just about to resort to entertaining Derek with riddles when Scott saves the day by coming back. He drops into the spare rolling chair and gives one good kick, wheeling over until the back of his chair hits Stiles’. Stiles sits back down in his chair as Scott drops his head back and sighs heavily. 

“Rough morning?” 

“You wouldn’t believe it,” Scott groans. Stiles glances over his shoulder and notices that Scott is holding a lizard. Like… a really big one. It has some wicked-looking claws, but it’s just clinging to Scott’s shoulder and kind of chilling. There’s probably a story there, and Stiles really wants to ask, but Derek clears his throat and reminds Stiles that… right, place of business.

“So… did I get the date wrong or something?” he asks, looking between Stiles and Scott. He sounds agitated. Fair, considering Stiles has stalled him with random bullshit for a good ten minutes.

“No!” Stiles says immediately, and hopes that’s true. Scott didn’t actually get the chance to show him where the daily appointment schedules are or anything. “No, sorry. Uh… Scott, I think this is Isaac’s first visit?”

Scott immediately sits up, going back into professional mode. This involves handing the giant lizard off to Stiles when he gets up and immediately grabs a clipboard that has blank forms clipped onto it. 

“Sorry about that! Okay, let’s get a file started for you dog.”

* * *

“Why do you have a lizard?” Laura asks when Stiles shows up for their Wednesday morning update with his binder on the trainee dogs, a banana, and Scott’s newest orphan clinging to his shirt.

“It’s a green iguana,” he says, dropping his binder and banana on the table before negotiating the iguana’s tail so he can sit down.

“I can see that it’s green.”

“No, I mean that’s the species. Not super imaginatively named, right? Plus they come in all colors. Some of them have some red or gold or-” 

“Still doesn’t explain why you have it.” Laura scoot her chair a few inches away from Stiles, eyeing the lizard.

“Long story. Short version is that some idiot probably bought this guy as a baby when he was small and cute and they never picked up a book to figure out that he was gonna get big and have claws and need a lot of space, so they very responsibly just ditched it in the wild to-”

“This isn’t a short version,” Laura interrupts.

“Right.” Stiles sighs heavily. “Scott wrangled this guy out of Allison’s yard. He was trying to take over the bird feeder.”

Laura waits a few seconds before making the ‘keep going’ motion. “Okay, but why do _you_ have him?”

“Oh. Scott has to work, and Amazon isn’t delivering lizard cage stuff until sometime before 8 pm. I’m babysitting. Lizard-sitting. I’m gonna call him Jackson.”

“After the lawyer’s kid?” Laura asks, still confused, but resigned to be so. It’s probably not the weirdest thing Stiles has ever done.

“Appropriate, right?” Stiles beams. Laura gets him. And she only asks as many questions as she really, really has to. That’s why Laura is awesome. 

It’s a brief meeting because the new trainee dogs are doing well, aside from one of them new puppies being a little more aggressive than they prefer. It’s okay, though. They’re still little enough for Stiles to try and train that out of him. 

“Let me know how that one is doing next week,” Laura says, shutting the binder and pushing it back over to Stiles. “So, did my brother call you last night?”

Stiles stops dead in the middle of trying to peel his banana around a heavy armful of iguana. “No. Why? Did he say he was going to?”

“No. He was just in a pissy mood. More so than usual.”

“And that makes you think he talked to me?” Stiles rolls his eyes. “Thanks.”

“Fine, that sounded bad,” Laura concedes. “It was just weird. Normally I can figure out what his issue is. Has he called you at all?”

Stiles shoves a bite of his banana in his mouth to buy himself a few seconds to frame this in the least awful way he can. “Once,” he mutters around his chewing. “I uh… made it weird.”

Laura raises her eyebrows. “When did he call you? What happened?”

“He called me to ask what Isaac’s last name was because he was making him a tag at one of those laser kiosks.” Which was kind of the most adorable thing ever. “I got nervous and panicked and ended up offering to come help him make the tag. I don’t remember if I even answered his question or just jumped right to implying that he can’t type basic information into a machine feeding him prompts.”

Laura nods, keeping her face absolutely neutral. Cop neutral. “Oh.”

“You want to laugh right now.”

“No, I don’t,” she says immediately. 

“Liar.” Stiles pulls the peel down further on his banana. Jackson stretches his neck out and helps himself to a massive bite from the fruit. Stiles makes a face, watching him chew it, feeling bits of banana hitting his shoulder and back when they fall out of his mouth. 

“Gross.” Laura makes a face. “Stiles!”

Stiles blinks, about to take a bite from the pitiful amount the greedy lizard left him. “What?”

“Don’t be disgusting. The lizard was chewing on that, just let him finish it.”

Stiles gives Jackson the side-eye and sighs, holding the remnants out to him. “Fine. I guess you get the rest of my snack. Asshole.”

* * *

Stiles is sitting at his desk in the kennel, tapping his pen idly on the desk as he looks at Theo’s file. What’s the best way to really word this… 

“I mean, I don’t think ‘bullying’ is the right word,” he mutters. “That’s got a really negative connotation, y’know? I don’t want to put that kind of a black mark on his record. I think he’s just playing. It’s not like he actually hurt Liam, right?” 

Jackson hisses from his perch on Stiles’ shoulder. One of the heavy tactical jackets protects Stiles from those curved claws (he thought about trying to trim them but, in a rare moment of clarity, decided not to assume that reptilian nail care in any way resembles canine nail care) and has made Jackson into a decent companion for the afternoon. He’s a good listener. “Yeah, you're right. Maybe we should hold off on documenting anything for now.”

Stiles is deep in discussion with Jackson on maybe using one of the calmer, adult dogs to try to adjust Theo’s temperament when the door opens. Stiles looks up, expecting Laura or maybe one of the officers partnering with a trainee dog. It’s not. It’s Derek.

Derek just looks at him for a few seconds, looking as startled as Stiles feels. 

“Are you talking to that lizard?”

“Yes,” Stiles says, because he can’t come up with a single better answer at the moment.

Derek takes another second to process that. “I’m actually not surprised by that answer,” he says finally. “Isn’t it… did Scott give it to you? The guy at the vet’s office?”

“Yeah. He shows his affection by showering me with stray animals,” Stiles snorts.

“Is that what you do, too?”

Stiles blinks at him. “What?”

Derek just looks at him, then shakes his head. “Never mind.” When he steps into the room, Stiles hears the jingle of dog tags and realizes Derek is holding a leash. He looks over the edge of the desk to see Isaac sniffing the air for all the familiar scents. 

“Isaac!” Stiles leans over the desk to reach down and pet him. This one is really too tall for that to be a good idea, and Jackson hisses his displeasure when Stiles spills over the desk far enough that his feet leave the ground. Stiles feels Jackson crawling further down his back to keep from being dumped off. Well, that’s going to be tricky to fix. But for now, he can get in a thorough petting, smoothing out the kinks in Isaac’s curly fur and watching them spring back into place. 

“You just saw him yesterday,” Derek reminds him.

“Sorry. I get excited when I see him. He looks so much better.”

“He looks… exactly the same since I adopted him,” Derek says. He crouches down beside the puppy (and into Stiles’ line of sight, dammit) and examines him. “I mean, his fur grew a little, but he’s pretty much the same, right?”

“He just seems happier. He didn’t really like the cages or the regimented days he had here.” 

“Oh. Good, I guess.” Derek rubs behind his ear. “He’s settling in pretty well.”

Stiles feels their fingers brush as they both focus on petting Isaac. Oh god. Say something. Say something about Isaac, that’s a safe subject. But also stop petting him before that happens again. 

“Hey, he got his tags!” Yes, good idea. Talk about the dog tags. And maybe that super awkward phone call too. But Stiles has already started, he can’t stop now. He catches the new silver disk hanging from Isaac’s collar and flips it around to see the engraving. 

**Isaac Stilinski-Hale**

Stiles has to read it again to make sure he saw that correctly. He did. Not that he knows what to do with that information. 

“Uh…”

“I… he was yours first,” Derek says, hastily pushing Stiles’ hand away from the tag. “I tried to ask you over the phone, but you didn’t really answer me, so I just… hyphenated it to be safe. 

A slight whine escapes Stiles as he falls in love a little.

“That’s cool,” he manages, his voice barely catching at all. “He can have it hyphenated. I… you even gave me top billing. That was nice of you.”

“I guess.” Derek tilts his head. “You’re turning kinda red.”

“Blood is rushing to my head,” Stiles says immediately. Which is totally true, even if it’s probably really not the issue. “Um… can you grab Jackson so I don’t dump him off when I stand back up?”

“Jackson… the lizard perched on your butt?”

Of course he is. Because Stiles has the worst luck ever. “Green iguana. Yeah, him.”

“So was yesterday… your birthday or something?” 

Stiles blinks, mercifully distracted from the tugging sensation on the seat of his jeans and the knowledge that Derek is having to untangle an iguana from his pants. “My birthday? No, why?”

“Oh.” Another tug. Something that Stiles swears are Derek’s fingers, gingerly working at curved lizard claws. “Anniversary?”

Stiles shifts and twists, trying to find a way to crane his neck and look back at Derek. “Anniversary of what?”

“I thought maybe Scott gave you a pet for your… anniversary or… I don’t know. Because he missed you or something. Seems a little big for a dorm room but-”

“Scott isn’t my boyfriend,” Stiles says in a rush. His brain goes right into ‘salvage’ mode. Oh god, Derek thinks Scott is his boyfriend. “He’s my best friend. But definitely not my boyfriend. His girlfriend called him about Jackson being in her yard, scaring the birds away from the birdbath and stuff. The iguana, not the lawyer’s son. So, Scott went to help her because he’s an awesome boyfriend and really loves Allison. Allison is his girlfriend. They met while we were all in high school and Allison had just moved to town and-”

“Stiles.” Derek crouches back down into Stiles’ view, Jackson tucked around one arm neatly. “You’re not dating Scott. Got it. Now stand up before you pass out.”

Stiles wiggles his head a little in what he hopes is a nod, but it’s actually hard to tell after being upside-down this long. When he drops back to his feet, the world spins a little as the blood rushes away from his head. “I’m not dating Scott. Or anyone. In case you were wondering. You probably weren’t, but now you know anyway. Um… are you dating anyone?”

“Your nose is bleeding.”

Stiles blinks at him. “Is that a stalling tactic?”

“No.” Derek grabs the back of his head and makes him lean forward. “Sit down, your nose is actually bleeding.”

Crimson splatters appear on the linoleum floor as Stiles gropes behind him for his chair to sit down. “I feel like this isn’t enough of a medical emergency to avoid this conversation we started,” he says, trying to keep his words from turning clumsy as the copper tang hits the back of his throat. He finally got up the nerve to say something, and damn it, a little bleeding from the head will not deter him now. 

“Stay leaned forward. I’ll go get you some ice.” Derek shoves Jackson back into Stiles’ arms and Stiles groans as he hears the kennel door swing open.

“We should get coffee and talk about whether you’re dating anyone!” Stiles calls.

“Coffee is good,” Derek calls back. “Now sit still, I’ll be right back!”

The door swings shut, and Stiles is left alone. He’s got a nosebleed, an iguana clinging to one arm, and a sort or proto-date for coffee and dating discussions. It’s a… it’s a weird sort of victory. Definitely a victory, though.


End file.
